


The Gang Hates Mac's Boyfriend(s)

by DictionaryWrites



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Antisemitism, Daddy Issues, Desperation, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode Style, Exploration, Extremely Dubious Consent, Gay Panic, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kissing, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Politics, Power Dynamics, Rimming, Sexual Assault, Slow Burn, Sugar Daddy, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-07-25 08:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16194122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: So, Mac has started dating, and that's alright, alright, alright, except...The Gang just wishes, sometimes, that Mac would make some better choices.





	1. Mac Gets Some Sugar: Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going for an episode-esque vibe here, so! Oh, and just a note that while Mac is a little bit more of a "victim" in Mac Gets Some Sugar, I'm absolutely not really leaning into the angle of woobifying him - with some of Mac's other planned boyfriends, he's absolutely gonna be the guy "in command" and therefore be a little bit more terrible? It's just that here, someone else has the reins.
> 
> Clifford Handler, in my head, is portrayed by Jeff Goldblum. Enjoy!

**At 12:10pm, On A Tuesday, Philadelphia, PA**

**Dennis Reynolds**

“Where the Hell is Mac?” Dennis demands, and Dee arches an eyebrow at him. That bitch. That bitch, and her eyebrows. The pub is quiet, a few of the regulars drinking and playing cards in the back corner of the room, and no one is around except Dennis and Dee. Dee, who is flicking through Wish.com on her stupid smartphone, and Dennis, who is waiting for Mac, because until Mac gets here, they can’t go out cruising in his new old Range Rover.

Dennis is—

Excited, to cruise again.

Mac in the shotgun seat, probably under pain of death to keep his stupid, wandering hands in his lap, and Dennis driving, so they can just go around Philly, maybe see what’s up.

Dakota? Not a great place for cruising.

Philly, on the other hand…

“Hey-o!” comes the call from the door, and Dennis glances up, then feels his face fall. Charlie comes into the bar with Frank trailing behind him, and Charlie bellows delightedly, “We got news! We got good news!”

“Bad news, Charlie,” Frank corrects sharply, scowling and crossing his fat little arms over his chest. “ _Bad news_.”

“What’s the news?” Dee asks, not looking up from her phone, like the ignorant Millennial bitch she is.

“Are you bidding on that?” Dennis asks, arching an eyebrow. “That blouse is much too young for you, Dee.”

“You don’t bid on things, Dennis, it’s not eBay,” Dee replies impatiently. “You just buy it and it comes from some sweatshop in China, real cheap, with free shipping.”

“Well, don’t buy it,” Dennis says. “You’ll look like a teenage whore.”

“Bad news!” Frank repeats emphatically, clapping his clammy hands together. “Bad news!”

“What bad news, Frank?” Dee asks, putting the phone down, and Frank releases a revolting grunt of sound, shaking his hands around. Dee and Dennis stare at him expectantly, and Dennis leans back, raising his arm to let Charlie past him as he squirrels his way toward the fridge to pull out a beer for himself.

“My business rival, Clifford Handler, is back in Philly. He opened a damn boutique by Franklin Square! And it sells, it sells, uh, you know, it sells _shirts_. And hats! And jeans!” Dennis stares at Frank for a very long few moments, trying to parse exactly what the old man’s problem is – nothing is made apparent. Frank looks from Dennis to Dee, desperately, hopefully… Dee looks at Dennis, equally baffled.

“So?” Dennis says.

“Well,” Charlie breaks in, putting his elbows on the bar. “Dogs shouldn’t be allowed to own property. I know that’s, uh, that’s not PC an’ all, but it’s my opinion and—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Dennis says, holding up a hand. “Frank… Is Clifford Handler a human, or a dog?”

“He’s a human! He’s, uh, you know,” Frank says. “He’s a Jew.”

“Okay,” Dee says. “I don’t think you can— What do you mean? That’s not a third category, Frank, you can’t just separate things into dogs, humans, and Jews, Jews are human too.”

“Yeah, but I _said_ he was human,” Frank snaps. “It’s just that he’s also a Jew.”

“Why are you— Why are you saying it like that?” Dennis says, glancing between Dee and Charlie. “And let’s drop the hard J, okay? Just say he’s Jewish, and— Actually, what does him being Jewish have to do with anything? Do you not like Jewish people?”

“Yeah,” Dee says, “you have an issue with, with people of the Jewish faith?” Frank is floundering.

“I don’t hate Jews! I like Jews just fine, I’m just _saying_ —”

“Hey-o!” Mac says, and everything stops. All four of them turn to look at him, and the conversation is stopped in its tracks: Mac is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, the kind of print he used to wear a lot when he was really fat, but this, _this_ … Is fitted. It’s a subtler colour, silver and black and showing off palm trees, and it clings tightly to his chest and his abs and his newly-buff arms, and the _jeans_ are—

The jeans are something else.

They’re black, and they’re fucking _tight_ , clinging to Mac’s thighs and his calves, and he’s wearing grey Converse, as well, grey… Jesus Christ.

“What the Hell are you wearing?” Dennis asks, and Mac glances at him owlishly, his eyes slightly wide as he looks from Dennis down to his attire.

“What, you— You don’t like it?”

“You don’t think it’s a little young?” Dee asks, bitingly. “I think it’s too young for you, Mac: you look like a teenage whore.” Mac’s face falls, his mouth open, and he runs an awkward hand through his hair as he moves forward. The shirt, which is tucked into his jeans in the front and not at the back, is just fucking—

“It’s too tight,” Dennis agrees. “Makes you look fat.”

“It looks expensive,” Frank says, leaning back to take a look at Mac’s ass, and Dennis wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I don’t know, Mac, I think it looks good.”

“Yeah, well, don’t trust his taste,” Dennis says.

“My boyfriend, you know, my boyfriend, I’ve been with him, um, a few weeks? He got it for me,” Mac says, a little bit shyly, and Dennis feels his teeth clench. Rage is burning in his chest, inexplicable and immeasurable rage that makes him want to smash his glass on the bar and slit Mac’s throat with a shard of glass. This— This _gay_ shit is just… It’s too far.

“Your _what_ now?” Dennis asks sharply, and Mac gives them all an awkward smile.

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩ ✩ ✩**

**Dennis Reynolds**

“What do you mean, he _bought_ it for you?” Dee demands, and Mac shrugs, taking a long drink of his beer as he sits down on the stool beside her. He’s so— Confident, as of recent, and Dennis isn’t sure he cares for it. He wants Dennis’ approval, but not _enough_ , and Dennis just hates that – Mac should be completely reliant on Dennis for validation, and a boyfriend? That’s an outside corrupting agent, that’s just…

That’s just not cool.

“Well, you know, he, um— I didn’t _ask_ him to,” Mac says. “But he likes to buy things for me, he likes to spend money, and he took me out, and he… You know, he picked out some clothes for me.”

“That’s really gay,” Dennis says. Mac glances at him, but it doesn’t provoke the expression of outrage or indignation Dennis was looking for; nor does Mac blush or cringe away. He just looks at Dennis uncomprehendingly, as if _Dennis_ is the moron of the two of them. Dennis! Dennis, a moron! And not _Mac!_

“Well… Yeah,” Mac says. “He’s my boyfriend.” Dee and Charlie laugh, each of them patting one of Mac’s shoulders, and Dennis feels his teeth release a quiet whine as they grind against one another.

“You like him?” Charlie asks, too earnestly and too, in Dennis’ mind, approvingly.

“Oh, yeah,” Mac says, and he grins. He looks— _Breezy_ , these days. Confident. Charismatic. Whenever Dennis is _away_ from Mac, Dennis feels absolutely fine – he’s better than he was before, feels a lot less rage than he used to, just feels… _Better_. He’s got the Range Rover back, he’s eating better, he’s… You know, it’s great.

But whenever Mac is in the room with him? Whenever Mac is flaunting his newfound sexuality, talking about banging guys, trying to kiss Dennis, trying to _touch_ Dennis, or worse, when he’s _not_ trying to come onto Dennis, and is just making it clear he’s interested in other guys…

“Well, where’d you meet him?” Frank asks.

“Well, you know, I was looking at this sweet ride out by the motorcycle shop, you know the one, Charlie? And I was just drinking a soda and checking out this really cool bike, right, and I was kinda imagining, you know, being tricked out in the black leather and having a helmet and stuff… And he kinda said, “Hey, do you ride?” and I said, “Um, no, you know, it’s just nice to think about.” And he leaned in, and he grinned, and he said, “Would you like to?”” Dee, Charlie and Frank all let out “ooh!”s of sound, and bang on the bar.

“That’s smooth,” Dee says approvingly.

“That’s _real_ smooth,” Frank agrees. “I’m taking that line.”

“So like, horses,” Charlie says. “Just to clarify what we’re talking about.”

“What? Charlie, _no_ —"

Not that Dennis wants Mac interested in _him_.

It’s damned annoying that Mac is interested in him, keeps trying to come onto him and touch him, keeps trying to control the situation when _Dennis_ is in control, but… Hm. No. No, Dennis is going to nip this in the bud immediately. He needs to nip this in the bud _today_ , before it goes any further.

“Wish I had a guy who’d buy me stuff,” Dee mutters. “Your boyfriend have any straight friends, Mac?”

“You know what?” Dennis interrupts, and he leans in. “He’s not your boyfriend, Mac,” he says, spreading his palms on the bar and staring Mac down. Mac’s puppy-dog eyes match with Dennis’ icy blue ones, and Dennis watches him, unblinking. “Do you know what he is?”

“He’s my—”

“He’s your fucking sugar daddy, guy,” Dennis says. “He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t even like you. He’s taking you, he’s riding your ass ‘til you can barely walk in those stupid jeans of yours, and he’s spending money on you so that you’ll let him do whatever he wants. Dee’s right, Mac. You _are_ a whore.” Mac swallows, and he mumbles something in a very small voice as Dennis takes up the glass again, polishing it.

“What’s that?”

“I’m the top,” Mac says, a little bit louder this time, and Dennis smashes the glass.

“ _What_?” Dennis demands sharply. “What do you mean, you’re the top? How can you be the top? You’re the boy! He’s the daddy! He has to top!”

“But he doesn’t top,” Mac says, shaking his head. “He says he’s too lazy to generate that kind of power, and that he’s old enough to be able to just enjoy getting railed by a much younger man.”

“Much young— How old _is_ this guy?” Dee asks. “He really old?”

“No!” Mac says. There’s a short pause. “He’s not… He’s not _really_ old.”

“How old?” Charlie asks. “He as old as me?” Mac blinks, and Dennis glances at Charlie with his eyebrows raised.

“Uh, yeah, Charlie,” Mac says. “He’s as— He’s older than you, actually. He’s a little older.”

“How much older?” Frank says curiously.

“I don’t know. Older.”

“His hair going grey?”

“Sure,” Mac says, dragging his mouth over the side of his mouth. “Uh. Going.”

“His hair is _all_ grey?” Dee asks. “Shit, Mac, how old is this guy? Are you dating some pensioner?”

“I get why he bottoms,” Dennis says. “He can’t get it up.”

“No, he _can!”_ Mac says indignantly, a rosy flush reddening his cheeks. “He _can_ get it up, and his dick is actually really big, so just shut up, okay? You think I don’t see what you’re doing? _You’re_ just angry because I’m happy!” Dennis takes a moment to digest that particular accusation, and then he takes a very slow step forward, leaning right against the bar.

“Excuse me?” Dennis asks, very quietly. Mac immediately loses the pissy expression on his face, and his shoulders come down a little, his eyes turning downcast to the surface of the bar.

“I mean,” Mac says. “I’m not… It’s true though, right? Like, you just don’t want _me_ to have a boyfriend because you left your wife in North Dakota and you don’t have anybody and you’re jealous, so—”

“Jealous!” Dennis snaps. “Me? Jealous? Of _you_?” Mac’s phone rings, blasting out some soundclips from the Fight Milk ad, and he brings the phone up to his ear, listening intently.

“Uh— Yeah, sure I can, um… Are you okay, do you want me to come over to you first? Okay. Yeah, no, it’s fine, D— I can do that. Do you want like, a grande, or?” Mac is already climbing down from the stool, and Dennis clenches his hands into fists, staring after him, but not stepping out from behind the bar. “Yeah, of course I can, I don’t mind. C— And condoms and strawberry lube, okay. Oh, so does that mean we’re gonna… _Okay!”_ Mac laughs to himself as he hangs up the phone, and he slides it back into his pocket. Because of how tight the stupid jeans are, the outline of the phone is visible through the denim, a little rectangle against mac’s thigh. “Okay, uh— I’m gonna go bring my man a coffee and get laid, so, uh… Bye, bozos!”

“He’s just gonna get him a coffee and then fuck him,” Dee mutters. “He’s living the life.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Dennis says, and Mac stops in front of the doorway, turning back to look at them. “I was gonna, uh— I was gonna ask if you wanted to go cruising in the Range Rover. We haven’t been cruising since I got back from Dakota.” He hates how desperate it makes him sound, hates how _needy_ he sounds… And Mac, he barely seems to notice.

“Uh, sure, okay,” Mac says, but he’s already moving back toward the door. “We can do that after, okay? I’m just gonna go to Starbucks and then, uh… You know, I’ll come back after I get my dick wet.” The door slams shut behind him, and Dennis sets his jaw.

“So, anyway,” Frank says. “Clifford and I, we go way back, and like… I kinda wanna ruin his business, you know? So, I was thinking that if we go out to his boutique, scope out the join, and maybe burn the thing down. You’d like that, Deandra, right? You like to burn things?”

“I do like to burn things,” Dee says thoughtfully, putting her chin on her hand. “But I don’t know, Frank, isn’t that a little… Obvious? You don’t want some subtlety, with the whole, uh, ruining his business thing?”

“Absolutely not,” Frank says.

“I don’t know, man,” Charlie mutters. “Do you want to piss off, like… A dog that big?”

“What is your thing with the dog?” Frank asks, turning to look at Charlie. “What— What dog?”

“You know,” Charlie says. “Clifford.”

“He thinks you mean the Big Red Dog,” Dee says. “You know. Clifford. Charlie, Clifford’s just a guy _called_ Clifford. He’s not a dog.”

“Oh, he’s _definitely_ a dog,” Frank says, putting an uncomfortably sexual emphasis on the last word.

“Is no one gonna talk about the sugar daddy thing?” Dennis demands. “Are we just gonna let this happen?”

“What, let Mac have a boyfriend?” Dee asks. “He’s happy, you know, he has a boyfriend, he’s getting laid…”

“No, no, no,” Dennis says, “he’s not… He’s not _getting laid_. He’s banging an incredibly ancient old man, probably with saggy balls!” He’s trying not to think about it. He’s trying not to think about Mac with an ugly old man bent out underneath him, banging him from behind, maybe… No. No, not hot. _Not good_.

“But a big dick,” Dee says. “He said he had a big dick, so…”

“Why does it matter if the other guy has a big dick? He’s the bottom! Mac’s the one generating all the power!”

“You seem really upset about this,” Charlie says, unsympathetically. “Isn’t it— You know, isn’t it good, if Mac has a boyfriend? He won’t be using that exercise bike anymore, or trying to get sex dolls of anybody, and he’ll… I don’t know, man! I just think it’s better if Mac’s out being gay than being gay in here, but like, at nobody.”

“Yeah,” Dee says, clinking her bottle against Charlie’s. “Exactly.”

Dennis reaches for a bottle of beer, and he takes a long, long drink.

Fuck this. Fuck _Mac_.

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩ ✩ ✩**

**Mac MacDonald**

The boutique is busy.

It only opened a few weeks ago, Cliff had told him, and it’s already looking _great_. The whole shop is laid out, with all kinds of menswear and womenswear, and it’s all chic and modern and like… Mac doesn’t know. It’s like the kind of thing he always sees in GQ, which he doesn’t buy – not because it’s a gay magazine, which is what always used to put him off before, but just because it’s fucking expensive, and he isn’t made of money.

Although…

Mac glances up at the office door, and he hesitates for a second before bringing up his hand to the door and rapping his knuckles against the wood.

“Uh, Cliff? I got you your coffee!”

“Aw, that’s great, honey, you— You come right in.” Mac turns the handle on the door, stepping inside, and he inhales – Cliff always burns these fruity candles in his office, and so the whole place smells slightly sweet, and it’s just _great_. Cliff is bent over his desk, glancing over something on his laptop, and Mac grins appreciatively, seeing the plump curve of Clifford’s ass in his salmon-pink slacks.

Could he just— Touch it?

Mac’s never had a boyfriend before, isn’t sure what exactly the protocol is, but he absolutely wants to smack Cliff’s ass right now, just to hear the sound it makes, and maybe see it— Jiggle. A little.

“Hey, um, Cliff?” Mac asks, adjusting his grip on the Starbucks coffee cup.

“Yeah, honey, what is it?” Cliff says, in a tone Mac is fairly aware means he isn’t really paying attention. He’s used enough to hearing that tone from Dennis. But— You know, Cliff is _bent over_ , and his shirt is so tight and it’s tucked in all the way around (not like Mac’s, which Cliff tells him is a French tuck), and it looks so good—

“Can I smack your ass?” Cliff turns his head, and his lips quirk into a slow, easy smirk as he meets Mac’s eye. Mac’s mouth is a little bit dry, his eyes maybe a little bit wider than they should be, and Cliff, Cliff is… Cliff is _hot_. Yeah, his hair is grey, but his beard is more salt and pepper, and he’s actually really fit, for an older guy – he’s lean and a little bit muscly in the leg, because he like, does yoga or some gay shit like that – and he’s _nice_ to Mac. He’d sat with Mac _all night_ in the gay bar, just telling him how handsome he was, and how smart he seemed, and asking Mac questions about fight milk, and karate, and Paddy’s Pub.

“Uh,” Cliff murmurs, his voice a low, enticing purr. “I would absolutely _encourage_ you to smack my ass, honey.” Mac swallows, but then he shifts the paper bag he’s holding into the same hand as the coffee, and he slams his right hand down against Cliff’s ass (not too hard, because like… You know, not that Cliff’s _ancient_ or anything, but he doesn’t want to hurt him), and God, his ass _jiggles_ a little under his slacks, and the sound it makes is insane! Cliff makes a low _Mmm_ of sound that makes Mac shiver, and then he moves slowly to stand. Mac bites his lip, looking up at him – Cliff? Cliff is like, the perfect height, for a dude. He’s _6’4”!_ That’s huge! _Cliff_ is huge.

One of Cliff’s big, broad hands slides to grip Mac’s jaw through the hair of his beard, and Mac grunts as Cliff grips him just a little bit too tightly, his fingers _digging_ in— “Cliff,” Mac mumbles, drawing in an inhalation. “Cliff, that— _Ow_ , Cliff—”

“Honey,” Cliff murmurs quietly, and the low, dark quality to his voice makes Mac bite his lip. Dennis talks to Mac like this, sometimes, in what the Gang tend to call his serial killer voice, and it’s— It’s actually, uh, pretty hot, when Cliff does it. It’s pretty hot when Dennis does it, truth be told, but that’s neither here nor there. “If you ever, uh… If you _ever_ ask to smack my ass again, you’d better actually smack my ass. I barely felt that. You— Haha, you understand me?”

Mac swallows, and he feels himself sway slightly on his feet.

“Uh huh,” he says hurriedly. “Yes, sir, I, uh, I understand. Sorry.”

“Good boy,” Cliff murmurs, and Mac shivers again, leaning further into Cliff’s big, warm hand. “What’s, uh, what’s in the bag? That my condoms?”

“Uh uh,” Mac murmurs. “The condoms and the lube are, um, are in my pocket – the bag is a bagel. To go with your coffee?” Cliff _gasps_ theatrically, his eyes widening behind his glasses, and his hands moves lower, to Mac’s neck, gently massaging the skin there. Mac always thought glasses were a big sign of nerdiness, but on Cliff? On Cliff, they’re just— It’s like he’s a _professor_ , and Mac gets to bang him.

“You got me a bagel?” Cliff asks softly, sounding delighted. “Aw, Mac, baby, you _shouldn’t_ have – that’s such, uh, that’s such a cute little gesture.” Cliff’s hands gently move to Mac’s, taking the cup of coffee and the bag from Starbucks; he sets the bag back on the table, and he takes a slow sip of the coffee as he draws the hand that had been on Mac’s jaw through his hair. He starts putting a little pressure on the top of Mac’s head, and Mac lets out a low sound as Cliff smiles softly at him, pressing down a little harder.

“Um, I— Do you want me to—” Mac’s knees buckle, and he slides slowly to his knees. “Do you want me to—” Cliff drags Mac’s cheek against his thigh, and Mac clears his throat slightly, reaching up to unbuckle Cliff’s belt. “Okay.”

“Good boy, Mac,” Cliff murmurs, and as Mac glances up at him, Cliff takes a delicate sip from his cinnamon dolce latte. A sort of excited wonder bubbles in Mac’s belly, and he lets his hands move a little faster, trying to get Cliff’s pants undone so that Mac can get at his dick. “Good _boy_.”

  **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩ ✩ ✩**

**Mac MacDonald**

“How’d you _go_ like that?” Mac asks between heavy breaths, afterwards – he’s sweaty as hell, flopped back in Cliff’s wheelie office chair, and Cliff chuckles at him indulgently, standing naked in front of him with a light glisten on his skin. Mac had been a little disappointed when Cliff had asked him to suck his cock, because he’d assumed that meant he wouldn’t be able to fuck him after, but—

No, Cliff was _absolutely_ ready to go even after shooting his load into Mac’s throat, and had gotten Mac to bend him back over the desk and fuck Cliff with Cliff’s thighs pressed up against his shoulders, just— For _ages_. And he’d gotten it up again, too, and just—

God.

“Well, uh, you know,” Cliff says modestly as he pulls his underpants back on, which are _very_ tight briefs, and leave a heavy bulge at Cliff’s crotch. “I take my vitamins.”

“You’re so hot,” Mac says. Cliff chuckles, sliding his shirt back on, and he begins to button it up to his neck. Mac’s ass is sticking a little to the supple leather of the chair, and he’s aware of the way it clings to his skin, aware of the slight burn in his thighs from the effort; he can still taste a little bitterness on the back of his tongue from Cliff’s cock, and the air is thick with the scent of the strawberry lube.

“Well, thank you, sweetheart,” Cliff murmurs in a mild, sweet tone, and he saunters forward, sliding his pants on. The pink fabric clings to his thighs and his calves, and it’s just— It’s really nice, actually. He just has a really great bod. “Uh, spread— Spread your legs a little wider, would you, honey?”

“Okay,” Mac says immediately, and he spreads his thighs apart obediently. Cliff moves closer, his knees between Mac’s legs, and he leans in, catching Mac’s mouth under his own, and Mac lets out a desperate little noise, leaning up and into the kiss. That’s the thing about Cliff – Mac had kinda expected him not to be much of a kisser, but really, he kisses an _awful_ lot, and he’s damned good at it, too. Mac had thought he was never into kissing, but now? Now, he kinda likes it. Cliff isn’t a chick, and Mac can feel the drag of his beard against Mac’s beard, feel Cliff’s hand sliding between his legs and wrapping around Mac’s dick— “Ungh… Cliff, I can’t… I can’t get it up again, right now, I’m—”

“Aw,” Cliff murmurs against Mac’s mouth, his breath hot and slightly minty. Cliff smells of this beautiful cologne that’s woodsy, like pine needles or something, but his breath is always minty fresh… He squeezes Mac’s soft cock in his big hand, dragging at it, and it’s just a little bit painful, because Mac’s _oversensitive_ , and he whimpers out a little noise. “But— You can be good for me, can’t you, baby boy? You can let Daddy just have a little taste?” Mac shudders, and he wants to shake his head, but he doesn’t _dare_ – he feels a streak of arousal thrum through him, making his cock twitch even though he’s already busted his nut and he’s _tired_.

“A t— A taste, you wanna, um… Blow me?”

“Sure,” Cliff murmurs, and his thumb drags over the head of Mac’s cock, making him squirm.

“But—What about your bagel? Shouldn’t you eat that first, won’t the taste be… Not good?” Cliff laughs, and he drags his teeth down Mac’s neck, making Mac whimper out a noise as he cants his hips up for more of Cliff’s touch.

“Call me Daddy when you want something,” Cliff whispers, and Mac swallows hard.

“Well,” Mac says. “I don’t— I don’t not _want_ it.”

“Then tell me what you want,” Cliff murmurs. “Because, baby, I definitely wouldn’t worry for the taste in my mouth – if I, uh, if I suck this pretty little pecker of yours, you’re gonna be so deep down my throat I am _not_ gonna taste you.” The noise Mac lets out is _completely_ involuntary, and it comes from low in his throat as his cock gives an excited twitch in Cliff’s hand.

“I want it,” Mac says. “Please.” Cliff squeezes, just a little bit too hard, and Mac grunts in pain, trying to lean back.

“Please, _what_?”

“I don’t know if I’m, um, really comfortable calling you, uh, I kinda have some issues, with my dad, and I don’t really—” Cliff opens his hand, letting Mac go, and Mac lets out a wail of loss. Cliff looks down at him, his eyebrows raising in expectation. “ _Cliff_ ,” Mac whines.

“You know what to say if you want me to suck you off, sweetheart,” Cliff says, his expression sweet and a little innocent, as if he isn’t really hearing what Mac’s saying. Helplessly, Mac glances down at his half-hard dick. He does… You know, he’s had _blowjobs_ before, sure, but like— From _chicks_. He’s never had a real blowjob, like, from a _guy_ …

“Pl— Please, um, Daddy,” Mac says, his voice a little higher than he means it to be. “Will you— Will you suck me off?” Cliff smiles, gently touching his thumb against Mac’s chin and scratching the beard gently.

“ _Yes_ , honey,” Cliff murmurs. “Since you, uh, asked so nicely, I will.”

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩ ✩ ✩**

**Dennis Reynolds**

Dennis crosses his arms over his chest, and he leans back in the seat of the Range Rover. It’s late in the afternoon, now, closer to evening, and Mac had never called to go cruising, like he’d said he would. Dennis has tried texting him, _three times_ , and Mac hasn’t replied any of the times – and yet he’d just answered the phone to his new, a hundred-year-old boyfriend, right in the middle of the bar!

 _Bastard_.

And now, here he is – Frank, Dee, and Charlie are here next to him the car, bickering over the plan of action.

Dennis? He isn’t clear on why a plan of action is _needed_ , exactly. He doesn’t think that Dee needs to really scope out the place in order to commit arson – which, by the way, he is 100% certain that she’ll mess up, because she’s only ever set _other people_ on fire, not buildings.

But Frank wants to go into the boutique and see what it’s like, and Dee wants to see if she can’t find a sugar daddy in a high-end boutique, because that’s what she’s on right now, and Charlie… Well. Dennis guesses Charlie just doesn’t have anything else going on – now that the Waitress, thank God, has entirely lost her appeal, he has a lot more free time.

“Okay,” Frank says, clapping his hands together. “You ready?”

“Sure,” Dennis says, at the same time as Charlie and Dee, and all three of them freeze.

“Uh,” Dee says.

“Um,” Charlie says. “Listen, um, Dennis, we kinda— We might want to make a quick getaway here, so could you— Could you wait here?”

“What?” Dennis demands. “Guys, it’s six-thirty – the store closes at seven. How quick a getaway are you gonna have to make?”

“Dennis,” Frank says consolingly, patting his shoulder. “Can’t you just— Won’t you just do us a favour here?” Dennis lets out a loud growl of sound, but they’re already clambering out of the Range Rover, and he will be _damned_ if he has to wait here in the same place! He’ll cruise on his _own_ , damn it!

Turning off the handbreak, Dennis slides out from his parking spot, and he begins to drive smoothly, enjoying watching the people passing him by on each side. It’s nice, to be able to just cruise around Philly sometimes – there’s something meditative and chill to just being able to drive around at his own pace, without being in a rush to get anywhere…

It is better with somebody in the passenger seat, though. _Much_ better.

It’s still too early in the evening for all the harlots and studs to be going out to the clubs, and he mostly sees the common man, moving from work back home, or walking hand-in-hand…

He sees a couple, a _gay_ couple, outside of Franklin Park – one guy is really tall, maybe 6’5”, 6’4”, and the other guy is average height, leaning against the taller guy’s chest. It’s… It’s actually a little pathetic. The little guy isn’t even that _little_ , he’s actually pretty built, with a pleasingly fat ass on him – for a guy – but he’s pressing his face right against the big guy’s chest—

Wait.

Is that _Mac_?

Dennis cranes forward in his seat, and he sees the little guy lean back slightly, looking _up_ at the big boyfriend, who’s definitely older, and yeah, that _is_ Mac. Goddamn it. God _damn_ it.

“Get your dick wet, my ass,” Dennis hisses, and he slams his hand into the car horn. Mac and the big boyfriend both turn to look at Dennis’s car, and Dennis feels himself grip tightly at the sides of the wheel. Boyfriend? Boyfriend doesn’t even look _that old_. Sure, his hair is grey and he’s got a bit of a beard, but his skin is just— He looks _great_! Handsome! Skinny, attractive… Dennis bets he wears makeup. Boyfriend is wearing a salmon-coloured suit of some kind of light, breezy fabric, and he’s wearing _boat shoes_ , and an open shirt…

Nervously, Mac looks between Boyfriend and Dennis, and Dennis sees his lips move, but can’t read them.

Boyfriend laughs, and he gives Dennis a wave that Dennis pointedly does not return: Mac takes a step away from Boyfriend, but before he can move all the way away, Boyfriend grabs him by the hair and pulls him closer.

Dennis watches, disgusted, as Boyfriend all but plunders Mac’s mouth, dragging his teeth over Mac’s lower lip and leaving Mac shuddery in his arms, like Mac’s some kind of liquid _slut_.

When Mac jogs toward the Range Rover, he’s visibly a little weak at the knees, and as he slides into the passenger seat between Dennis, Mac can see the pink flush on his cheeks, see how red and wet and plump his lips are. “That’s him?” Dennis asks as he watches Boyfriend saunter away, and Mac exhales, dragging the seatbelt over his hip and clicking it into place.

“Yeah,” Mac says. “He says I can go home with you guys, and I’ll just meet him at his place later tonight.”

“Oh,” Dennis mutters, reversing and taking a turn so that he can drive back toward the stupid fucking boutique. “So long as he says you _can_. Did he like his coffee?”

“Yeah,” Mac says defensively.  

“You fuck him?” Mac turns his head, _scowling_ , and he crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“ _Yeah_. That okay with you, Den?” Oh, that attitude, that attitude, Dennis doesn’t care for _at all_. And Mac isn’t touching him, true – that much is a damned improvement, but…

“Don’t call me Den,” Dennis snaps. “I just think it’s a little _weird_ that you meet one guy, and suddenly, you’re willing to be a complete slut.”

“I’m not a slut,” Mac says. “I’m sleeping with one guy – this guy! And he treats me well, and he took me out for a really nice lunch—”

“Oh, oh, did he suck your dick, too?”

“Yeah!” Mac says, and Dennis is quiet. Oh. _Oh_. Like… No, that shouldn’t be that surprising, two grown men sucking each other’s dicks, but— But that’s _Mac_ , getting his dick sucked by some old guy, and it doesn’t matter that the old guy is _hot_ for an old guy, because he’s still a fucking old guy. Mac is very quiet, looking out of the window, and Dennis stops for a second to let Dee, Charlie, and Frank all climb into the back seat so that he can start driving.

“Hey, Mac,” Charlie says, leaning forward. “It’s not so hard out there after all, right?”

“What?” Mac says, turning his head.

“You know, you… found a boyfriend, spent all day with him. You seem real happy about it… And he’s good, right, he’s good? So! It’s not that hard out there!” Dennis watches Mac out of the corner of his eye, and he sees Mac smile a little bit, giving Charlie a soft look.

“He took me out for lunch,” Mac says.

“Oh, yeah?” Dee asks, leaning forward as well. “Where’d you go?” As Frank, Dee, and Charlie ask Mac questions about Boyfriend, and Mac answers them all with that stupid, beatific smile on his face, Dennis tries not to grip too tightly at the steering wheel, and focuses on driving back to Paddy’s Pub.

But—

Mac?

He genuinely looks _happier_.

Throughout the evening, over the next few hours, Dennis sees Mac smiling to himself even in the quiet moments where the banter just isn’t happening between everybody, or when there’s a natural lull in the conversation; he sees Mac send off little texts or grin when he gets a notification; he sees Mac _laugh_ , and excitedly say, “My boyfriend says…”

And he does that on purpose, Dennis thinks.

He says _my boyfriend_ , just to remind them, just to remind them—

Mac stands up when Dee goes to the bathroom as Charlie checks something out in the basement, sliding on the sleek, grey-leather jacket he absolutely didn’t have this morning, which is form-fitting and tight, and Dennis watches him. “You going to go put out, huh? How much bang is a buck? What did you have to do to earn the jacket?”

“You know what, Dennis?” Mac says, and he turns to give Dennis a glare. “I— This is _really nice_ for me, dude. Like, this is really positive, and fun, and I’m really _happy_. Can’t you just— Let me? Why’d you have to pick at it? Why can’t you just see that I’m happy and let me be happy?”

“This is all gonna end terribly for you, Mac,” Dennis says. “You know why? Because you’ve obviously fallen too hard for this guy, and he _only_ wants you for your dick, so as soon as your dick becomes boring, he is gonna drop you so hard you’re not even gonna be able to deal with it. I know you _think_ you’re happy, Mac, but this guy? He’s gonna ruin your damn life, and mess up your already tenuous psyche.”

“Oh, fuck you, Dennis,” Mac snaps, and Dennis has to bite back the _“You wish!”_ as Charlie comes back up from the basement.

“What’s up?” Charlie asks, as Mac slams the door behind him like the stupid _child_ he is.

“Mac’s gone home to his boyfriend’s apartment,” Dennis mutters, and Charlie moves to sit at the bar, across from Dennis. Dee is still in the bedroom, and Frank is God knows where: it’s just the two of them in the bar, and Charlie glances down at his hands.

“You know, man,” Charlie says, “I don’t think he’s, um. You know, now that he’s out of the closet, isn’t it, like, better? That he’s going out and banging dudes, instead of trying to bang you all the time? Because like you said, you know, it’s never gonna happen, so he can just do his thing—”

“How do you envisage the _Gang_ working if one of us is in a full-time romantic entanglement, Charlie?” Dennis asks, arching an eyebrow. “Like, if you had got with a woman less hideous than the Waitress, do you think that you’d want to spend time with us all the time? If I hadn’t…” Dennis coughs, delicately. “If I hadn’t come up with an alternate arrangement with my, uh, my _wife_ , do you think I’d be hanging around here? Mac’s relationship with this guy is inherently doomed, because he’s just too dependent on us, here in the bar. That guy is either gonna grow tired of Mac putting the bar first, or he’s gonna get weirded out by Mac’s dozens of personality flaws, and he’s going to dump him… And then where will we be? _We’ll_ have to pick up the pieces. This boyfriend certainly won’t. And Charlie, Mac? He’s a forty-year-old man. Do you think you want to see how he responds to his first _real_ break-up, with a man he’s obviously way too emotionally involved with, after like, a few weeks?”

“He did start calling the guy his boyfriend like, right off the bat, didn’t he,” Charlie says lowly, and Dennis nods his head.

“Uh, yeah, _immediately_ , Charlie.” Glancing down at his hands, Charlie bites his lip. “Listen… It’s okay. He’ll… Mac, you know, he knows what’s good for him. He’ll dump this guy before this guy can dump him.”

He won’t.

Dennis is absolutely _certain_ of that.

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩ ✩ ✩**

**Mac MacDonald**

Sleeping.

In a bed.

With another guy. Naked! On purpose! _Cuddling!_

This?

This is literally never gonna get old.

Mac is curled up against Cliff’s side, his face pressed right against the curly, pine-scented hairs on Cliff’s chest, and Cliff is even rubbing gentle circles on Mac’s back, gently dragging his fingers up and down Mac’s spine… God, Mac could die like this. Mac could happily die _right now_. He’s fucked out, _Cliff’s_ fucked out, and now they’re cuddled together under soft, silken sheets, and Cliff’s borzoi – a freaky looking dog with a snout like a flute – is curled up in her dog bed, sleeping peacefully. She doesn’t even _try_ to get up on the bed!

“Um,” Mac mumbles, against Cliff’s surprisingly firm pecs. “Cliff?”

“Mmm hmm?”

“What do you… What do you do when you get bored of somebody’s dick?”

“Oh, well, I don’t _kill_ them,” Cliff says. Mac feels his brows furrow slightly.

“Uh— Well, no,” Mac says. “I didn’t think that you’d kill… Somebody, for that, for anything, I just meant, like, if you get bored of me…?”

“Oh, _baby_ ,” Cliff murmurs, and he gently cups Mac’s cheek: Mac feels his heart beat a little faster. “Am I supposed to be bored of you already? It hasn’t even been a month! And you bring me coffee, and _bagels_ , and you are just, uh… You are just the most delectable little thing. I’m not gonna get bored of _you_ for quite some time.” One of Cliff’s long fingers taps against Mac’s nose, and Mac shivers. “And, well, if we, uh, decide we’re not quite right for each other… Well, we’re adults, aren’t we, sweetie? We can just go our separate ways.”

“You’re so hot,” Mac says, and Cliff chuckles, showing his teeth. Mac kinda likes his teeth – there are marks bitten into the insides of his thighs, and Cliff, he’d… He’d actually eaten Mac out, licked his _asshole_ (after an exhaustive douching in the shower that Mac had… kinda enjojyed), and Mac’s legs are still a little shaky from the force of it all.

“Well, _good_ ,” Cliff murmurs. “Is this that, uh, that friend of yours getting in your head? Dennis?” Mac says nothing, and Cliff just smiles. “Listen, sweetheart, Dennis… He’s just jealous you’re onto a good thing. A lot of straight guys are like that – they’re just fine with _everything_ until you actually find a guy you click with, and then, out comes all the excuses. Oh, no, you can’t date Cliff – he’s too old! He’s too attractive! That Corleone boy died under suspicious circumstances!” Mac blinks.

“What?”

“But listen, sweetheart,” Cliff continues unerringly, “I just think you are… Mmm, I could just _eat you up_. Haven’t I proved that?”

“Yeah,” Mac says, a little breathlessly. “I really, um… I really like this. Sleeping in a bed, with another guy, like… Sexually. I’ve never done this before.”

“Oh, you are just a _trip_ , honey,” Cliff murmurs, and he begins to stroke Mac’s back again. “Mmm, listen, you… Why don’t you just sleep, hmm? I’ve got a surprise for you in the morning…”

“Oh, really? A surprise? Can’t you just tell me now, because I—”

“Ah ah ah,” Cliff whispers. “ _In the morning_.” Cliff’s voice is— Actually, it’s… It’s pretty hot. He’s just a little bit stern, like he really _is_ a professor, and it’s, um, it’s really… God. Yeah. Mac likes it.

“Okay,” Mac murmurs.

“Okay, what?” Cliff presses. Mac feels himself shiver, and he feels the burn in his cheeks.

“Okay,” Mac says. “Daddy.” Cliff laughs, and he presses kisses against Mac’s forehead as he squeezes him close, then pats the side of the bed.

“Stella, come up onto the bed with Daddy and Mac.” The borzoi leaps gracefully up from her bed and onto Cliff’s, and she pads over the sheets, curling herself up against Mac’s side so that Cliff can scratch her ears. There’s something incredibly romantic about it, about being able to cuddle Cliff _and_ a dog at the same time, and Mac—

Mac, honestly?

He’s kind of in Heaven here.

“Thanks,” Mac mumbles, and Cliff laughs softly.

“Thanks? For what, sweetheart?”

“Oh, you know,” Mac mutters, and he closes his eyes as Stella wriggles a little closer, nosing against his ear and making him giggle. He turns on his side, wrapping his arms around her soft, white fur and feeling Cliff spoon up against his back. “Just— For everything, I guess.”

“Aw, honey,” Cliff murmurs. “Someone… Somebody really did a number on you, but I’m here now, okay? I’m gonna make it, uh… I’m gonna make it _all_ okay.” Cliff’s hand plays over Mac’s shoulder, and for just a second, his hand touches over Mac’s neck, squeezing slightly, but then he just wraps his arm around Mac’s belly. “G’night.”

“Good night,” Mac says softly, and he lets his eyes drift closed.


	2. Mac Gets Some Sugar: Part Two

**At 5:29AM, On A Wednesday, Philadelphia, PA**

**Mac McDonald**

“Oh, we gotta… Gotta get up,” Mac mumbles, slowly dragging himself to the edge of the bed, and he blearily rubs at his eyes, yawning as he gets to his feet. He stumbles a little as he comes not the living room, and he rolls his shoulders – Cliff’s bed is _so much_ nicer than Mac’s. It’s soft, with plump pillows and nice sheets, and it’s just—

It’s great.

It’s so _nice_. And Cliff’s apartment, in general? Cliff’s apartment is nice.

He’s only been living here for two months, he’d said to Mac, and before he’d come to Philly, he’d been living in Des Moines, but then he’d had some trouble with this Corleone woman who owned an auto repair shop, and didn’t like that Cliff had banged her son, and then— The son died. Suspicious circumstances, or, whatever.

But Cliff’s apartment doesn’t _feel_ that new. There are blankets on the sleek, modern furniture, and nice cushions, and he has really soft rugs on the laminate flooring. And Stella, she actually doesn’t shed all that much, even though she’s a really furry, fluffy dog that seems like she’d have a lot of hair to shed.

“Oh, oh, honey,” Cliff says, and Mac turns to look at him, sleepily taking him in. Cliff is dressed in a pair of purple silk PJs, his bare feet resting on Stella’s side and his iPad settled in his lap. “I’m just doing some, uh, some insurance stuff… Honey, you don’t need to be awake yet, it’s not even six.”

“S’cold,” Mac mumbles, moving forward slowly, and Cliff looks at him with an appreciative smirk on his face – this is the moment where Mac becomes aware that he’s still naked from the night before, and he moves to sit down on the sofa next to Cliff. Setting the iPad aside for a second, Cliff grabs a blanket from the back of the couch and wraps it loosely around Mac’s body, the fleecy fabric soft and warm against Mac’s bare skin, and he drags Mac to curl up with his head against Cliff’s thigh.

“My good boy,” Cliff murmurs, dragging his fingernails over Mac’s scalp and scratching slightly, and Mac groans quietly. As he continues to work, Cliff plays with Mac’s hair, curling some of it around his long fingers, and Mac looks at Cliff’s screen. He’s adjusting a property insurance document, Mac guesses on the boutique.

“My surprise?” Mac asks, softly. Cliff laughs, and he ruffles Mac’s hair playfully.

“ _Later_ , baby. Don’t be, uh, don’t be greedy. Daddy’s working.”

“What’re you working on?” Mac asks, and Stella sits up, leaning to put her chin on the side of the couch, and she presses her nose against Mac’s, making him laugh. God, she’s a freaky looking thing, but Mac doesn’t mind – dogs are dogs are dogs, except for Poppins. Mac reaches out, gently stroking Stella’s ears, and she whines softly, dragging her tongue over Mac’s wrist and looking at him with her soft, brown eyes.

“Oh, I’m just, uh, I’m just setting up some insurance, honey, making sure that if anything, ha, if anything untoward happens with the boutique, I can claim the money back nice and easy.” Mac pats the side of the couch, and Stella hops up like a weird cloud on long legs, and she flops down half on top of him, curling up against him. “Aw, isn’t that— Isn’t that just the cutest thing?”

Mac closes his eyes, and he listens vaguely to Cliff as he talks about whatever the insurance scam is – it seems a lot more vanilla and straightforward than any of the insurance stuff that Frank seems to do, and Mac is… Kinda out of it. He can feel the warmth of Stella’s body through the blanket, and he can feel her heart beating under his hand where he cuddles her close.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he hears Cliff say, as if at a distance. “Good boy, you just… Mmm, you just go back to sleep, sweetheart.” Mac squeezes Stella a little bit tighter, pressing his face against the back of her neck, and he lets himself fall asleep again.

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩ ✩ ✩**

**Dennis Reynolds**

Dennis leans his elbows on the bar, his chin resting on his palms, and he watches Dee as she points to the flipchart. Frank and Charlie are each watching intently, and Dee has been talking for just… What seems like _hours_ , God.

“And once you take out that camera, it’s easy, you know, we’ll just set the whole thing on fire. I mean, all these chic fabrics, they probably burn really easy, so all we’ll need is a light accelerant, maybe some lighter fluid. Make sure we take out the office, the backroom _and_ the main storefront, and we’ll take out all their stock!”

“Nice, Deandra,” Frank says approvingly, nodding his head very sagely. “That’s all— This is all just _great_. So we’ll do this… On Sunday?”

“Yeah, gotta be on Sunday,” Dee says. “Because the cops are having that parade, where they’re celebrating killing kids or something, so their call-out time is gonna be _hugely_ impeded, and… And yeah, so we break in the back, and we burn everything! Should be great.”

“They don’t kill kids,” Frank says.

“I’m not having this goddamn argument with you again, Frank,” Dee says sharply. “Are we committing this arson, or not?”

“Yeah,” Frank says, waving his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s do it.”

“Can I just ask a question?” Dennis asks, his tone slick and low. “How in the Hell do you expect a plan to work with _Dee_ at the fore?”

“I’ve got good plans,” Dee says defensively, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve got good plans right here! This is a great plan!”

“Uh—”

There’s the rumble of an engine outside, and Dennis glances up, interested, and immediately loses focus on undermining Sweet Dee’s control of the situation. He rushes toward the entrance of the bar, and he pulls it open, glancing outside.

The motorcycle pulling up is… Pretty fucking sweet, actually. “Is that a _Ducatti_?” Dennis asks, and Frank lets out a low sound, impressed. Charlie and Dee are both craning to see, and Dennis takes a step forward, letting everybody come a little bit further out of the bar.

Mac is sat on the front of the motorbike, leaning back against Boyfriend’s chest, and Dennis arches an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks at the both of them. Boyfriend is wearing a pair of _black, leather pants_ – Christ, as if the guy isn’t like, sixty years old – and aviator shades as well as an open shirt, and Mac is wearing his new leather jacket… They actually _look_ like they’re meant to be on a motorcycle together, one of Boyfriend’s big hands wrapped loosely around Mac’s belly…

“Whoa,” Frank says. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey! _Clifford!_ You rat bastard!” Wait. Okay, okay, _this_ is Clifford Handler? Jesus Christ.

Boyfriend leans back as Mac climbs off the bike, sliding the shades up onto his forehead. “ _Frankie!_ Aw, baby, hi, how are you, uh, how are you doing? I didn’t realise you were back from ‘Nam.”

“I’ve been back from Vietnam for decades, you fag!” Frank snaps, and Dennis shoves him in the shoulder.

“We already took this to a lawyer, Frank, you can’t say that,” Charlie says scaldingly, but Clifford doesn’t seem to have a problem with it. He chuckles a little, and before Mac can take a step away, he grabs Mac by the back of his collar, keeping him close to the bike, and he slides an easy hand onto his hip.

“Mac, honey, you, uh… You didn’t tell me you knew Frankie Reynolds! I didn’t know that he’d, uh, that he’d aged so poorly. Woulda got a kick out of hearing that.” Mac laughs, a little nervously, but then Clifford pats his hip, and Mac relaxes slightly. “How do you know each other?”

“Um, Dennis, Dennis and Dee, well, Frank didn’t sire them, but he raised them, but Frank maybe did sire Charlie, we think, and then Frank adopted me, for Family Fight, so I’m his son too, I guess.”

“ _Wow_ ,” Cliff says, squeezing his hands around Mac’s waist, and as he does so, he meets Dennis’ gaze. Dennis feels so damn _irritated_ , his skin hot as fuck and his heart beating a little bit faster in his chest, and he can’t— He can’t _understand_ why he’s so annoyed, why it pisses him off so damn much to see Clifford’s chin against Mac’s shoulder and his arms around his belly, especially not with the _smug_ look on Cliff’s face. He’s _taunting_ Dennis – taunting him! Taunting him, with _Mac!_ “That’s… That’s an awful lot to unpack. I’ll— Haha, I’ll just leave you guys to it. Mac, honey, your first lesson is scheduled for today at five, okay? So I’ll come pick you up at four-thirty.”

“Okay,” Mac murmurs, turning around, and Dennis swallows back his bile as Cliff just _kisses_ Mac on the mouth, cupping his cheeks and leaning right into it, and Mac? Mac, he just relaxes right into it as Frank lets out a loud sound of absolute disgust.

“Mmm, okay, baby. Bye bye.”

“Bye bye,” Mac says. He doesn’t pull away, and Dennis turns his head, looking at Dee, whose nose is wrinkled as she does her best not to actually wince. Charlie looks a little bit disgusted himself, which should show exactly how _far_ the PDA is here, for Mac. Usually, his partners would never be allowed to touch him this much, but obviously—

Well, Clifford is a _man_.

“What do you _say_?” Clifford asks, his tone emphatic as he adjusts a crease in Mac’s jacket, and Mac flushes red, his cheeks _glowing_ with the blush. That slut. That—

“Thank you, Daddy,” Mac mumbles, as if Dennis and the guys can’t _hear_ it, and Cliff pats his cheek before he slides back into the seat of the motorbike, dropping the sunglasses back on.

“See you, baby,” Cliff says, and he kicks the engine into action, driving off down the street. Mac moves forward, his hands in his pockets, and all of the Gang look at him expectantly, wondering if he’s gonna give _some_ explanation for the whole “Daddy” thing, but no explanation come.

“What’s with the bike?” Dee asks.

“Oh, that’s— That’s my bike. Cliff got it for me this morning,” Mac says.

“Sorry,” Dennis says, spreading his hands out. “Your “boyfriend”,” Dennis starts, careful to make the finger quotes with his hands, “of a week-and-a-half, he went out this morning and bought you a Ducatti?”

“Uh, yeah,” Mac says. “He’s really rich, so…” Mac shrugs his shoulders, and then he grins nice and wide, showing off his teeth. “Yeah, so when he said, I’m gonna buy you a Ducatti, obviously I just went with it.”

“But, dude,” Charlie says, leaning forward slightly, “Um… Do you know _how_ to ride a motorcycle?”

“No,” Mac says confidently. “But that’s why Cliff is getting me lessons.”

“He’s getting you lessons _and_ a damned motorcycle? Why are we straight?” Frank demands, turning to Dennis, and Dennis scoffs, shaking his head.

“Well, you were the one talking about burning down his boutique,” Dennis points out.

“What?” Mac demands, taking a step forward. “You can’t do that! That’s my boyfriend, you can’t burn down his boutique, what the Hell? That’s _not_ cool – that’s homophobic!”

“That’s not homophobic!” Frank retorts as they move back into the bar, and Dennis watches as Mac pulls off his jacket, showing off the tight, pink shirt he’s wearing, which is tucked into his pants in the front, and left loose in the back. “I’m not gonna do it because he’s _gay_ , I’m gonna do it because he’s an asshole, and I hate him.”

“And because he’s a Jew,” Charlie adds helpfully.

“What?” Mac says. “He’s not a Jew.”

“He… He is absolutely a Jewish person,” Dee says. “Did you not— Haven’t you seen him? Or heard him talk? He’s definitely Jewish, Mac.”

“No!” Mac says, shaking his head. “He is _not_ Jewish.”

“Is he circumcised?” Dennis asks.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Mac all but shouts, losing control of his temper like the stupid, tempestuous slut he is, and Dennis rolls his eyes. Of course he’d be taken in my an older man – probably to do with Mac’s ridiculous _Daddy_ issues – and calling him Daddy! No less, _calling_ the man Daddy! To his face! In front of them all! “The point is that you can’t burn down the boutique!”

“Mmm,” Dee says, leaning from one of her feet to the other. “I don’t know, I, uh… I kinda think we’re gonna.”

“Dennis!” Mac says, turning to him, and Dennis raises his eyebrows expectantly, crossing his arms over his chest and staring Mac down. What, is he really asking _Dennis_ for help? What doeshe think _Dennis_ is going to do? Defend his ancient old boyfriend from arson for _Mac’s_ sake?

“Listen, Mac,” Dennis says, and he slings his arm around Mac’s shoulder, feeling Mac immediately relax and lean back against him. For the first time in nearly three years, Mac’s hand doesn’t stray lower to pretend it isn’t grabbing at Dennis’ ass or his hips or even his side. Mac keeps his hands to himself, in front of his belly, and for some reason, that really pisses Dennis off, but he swallows his fury and keeps it internalised, continuing, “They’re not gonna burn down Clifford’s boutique, okay? They’re gonna burn down a _different_ boutique.”

“But I—”

“Now, would you do me a favour and, uh, go get me a coffee?” Interrupted, Mac takes a moment, his mouth opening and closing, but his natural desire to please takes over his concentration, and he nods his head.

“Sure, Dennis,” Mac says. “What do you want?”

The Gang watches in baffled confusion as Mac takes the bill Dennis presses into his hand and walks out of the bar, the door clicking shut behind him, and Dennis looks to the others, clapping his hands together.

“So,” he says. “How are we burning down this boutique?”

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩ ✩ ✩**

**Mac McDonald**

It’s evening time when Mac finishes the lesson, and it feels— It actually feels really good.

To begin with, they’d done a theory refresher, running over road signs, rules of the road, stuff like that, and that’d actually been pretty easy. Mac had just been glad he’s never taken any of Frank’s advice on the road, because absolutely _none_ of it seems to have come up in class.

Especially the stuff about Asians.

The actual class had been pretty great – they’d put Mac on a black bike, and they’d shown him how to sit right, how to ignite the engine, how to rev it, how to brake, and he’d even run a route around the obstacle course, and he’d only hit over a _single traffic cone_ – he’d been amazing! Mac learned to drive, back when he and Dennis were teenagers, but he never bothered to get his license – it just seemed pointless, when Dennis was always the one driving, but this? Having the bike under him?

It feels… It feels _powerful_. Mac feels _strong_.

“You were _so good!”_ Cliff says as Mac rushes off the course, and Mac laughs, throwing himself _right at_ the other man and winding his arms around Cliff’s neck, and Cliff just— He _lifts_ him! Lifts Mac! Right off the ground, his strong hands clutching at the base of Mac’s thighs and swinging him around, and Mac is _giddy_ when Cliff sets him down again, a flush on his cheeks.

“I was great!” Mac says. “I knew all the theory stuff already, and picking up the actual riding was really, _really_ easy – it’s way easier than I thought it would be, I always figured it must be super hard!” And it helped, Mac thinks, that he just had a three-hour training course with just _one guy_ – Mac always figured

“Aw, _no_ , baby, see, you’re _smart_ ,” Cliff purrs, and he slides his palms over Mac’s jaw, his thumbs tapping against Mac’s chin as he leans in, brushing their noses against one another. Mac inhales, taking in the minty freshness of his breath, the smell of his cologne, and Cliff murmurs, “See, I, uh… I always _wanted_ a bodyguard, baby, and I could, uh, train you up to ride a bike, maybe enrol you in a close protection course…” Cliff is speaking almost idly, barely thinking about saying it, but Mac stops short, staring up at Cliff with his mouth slightly open, his jaw slack.

Guilt, inexplicably, flares in Mac’s chest.

“Really?” Mac asks in a small voice. He thinks of every time Dennis has called him a moron, thinks of every time he’s ruined something by spilling the beans too early or by not being able to do a real ocular patdown, thinks of how Dad’d said somebody was gonna try and kill him in jail after he and Charlie tried to help him. “But… But, um, you know, I can’t even— I can’t even do karate.” Cliff laughs softly, running a hand through Mac’s hair.

“Well, that’s, uh— Pretty easily remedied, don’tcha think? I’ll pay for your lessons. Money is, uh, _no object_ here, baby. I’ll spare no expense. They don’t make pretty pieces like _you_ every day – I’m more than willing to, uh, do my own custom work and paintjob. Speaking of…” Cliff leans in, dragging his mouth over the shell of Mac’s ear, and Mac grunts as Cliff delicately takes the lobe of Mac’s ear in between his teeth, making a wonderful shudder run through Mac’s whole body. “I, uh… I’d _love_ to paint you up right now.”

“R-really?” Mac asks headily.

“Oh, _yeah_ ,” Cliff murmurs. “I’d love to, mmm, get you home, spread you out in my jacuzzi tub and come all over that handsome face of yours.” Mac wheezes, because that isn’t _exactly_ what he’d been expecting, and then he nods, eagerly, desperately.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mac says, “Okay, okay, let’s go home—”

“Good _boy_ ,” Cliff purrs, and he catches Mac’s hand, dragging him to follow him out toward the parking lot. “You, uh, you want to drive?” Mac inhales.

“ _Really_?”

“Uh huh. I’ll, uh, I’ll keep my hands on your hands, baby, but you can take the proverbial wheel, so to speak.” Cliff slides onto the back of the bike behind Mac, and Mac shivers as he feels the bulge in Cliff’s pants against his lower back. “You know, honey, I… I don’t tend to stick around one city that much. I come, I set up the boutique, get everything running, and then, uh, then I head off, but… I think I’d like to take you _with_ me, next time I go. I just… I’d love having this pretty pecker of yours on tap.” Mac grunts as Cliff’s hand cups him through his pants, and he grips tightly at the handlebars. It’s exciting. No one’s ever wanted to take Mac _anywhere_ , or look after him, or have him— Or have him _on tap_. And it’s exhilarating, to hear Cliff talking in his ear, to hear Cliff _wanting_ him.

“H-hold on tight,” Mac mumbles, and Cliff laughs against the back of his neck, squeezing slightly.

“Well, if you _insist_.”

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩ ✩ ✩**

**Dennis Reynolds**

With satisfaction, Dennis sits back on the bar stool, his elbow leant on the bar. Dee, Frank, and Charlie are all just dusted with smut and the remnants of smoke, Dee especially – her terrible hair is even more like a rat’s nest than usual, with ash staining the blonde colouring. Charlie is wearing a half-charred silk scarf that is still smoking slightly where it’s tied around his neck, and he is talking animatedly to Frank, who—

Honestly, Frank is covered in filth, but he doesn’t look that different to normal.

“So,” Dennis says mildly, taking a sip from his drink. “How was the arson?”

“Oh, it was _great_ ,” Dee says immediately.

“It was pretty cool,” Charlie says. “All the fabric was like, aaah, flames, and the burning, and there was this mannequin and that kinda melted, and it was all sloppy and wet on the floor, and we burned up the record office, and all of _that_ was really cool.”

“I’d be up for more arson,” Frank says musingly. “It was really, _really_ fun. And Dee took out all the security cameras, so…” Dee grins, looking disgustingly satisfied with herself, but Dennis is willing to be indulgent to his sister’s confidence for today, and today only. After all, they’ve burned down Cliff’s boutique, and—

 _Presumably_ , that means Cliff will be moving elsewhere, and _soon_.

“Hey, hey, guys, big news!” Mac says, rushing into the room, clapping his hands together. “We’re all going out to dinner, Cliff’s treat! He was thinking Gugini’s?”

“Why?” Frank asks suspiciously.

“Oh, well, um, somebody burned down the boutique, so that means that he’s gonna get a really big insurance pay-out – enough to open a new boutique in Pittsburgh and open up this whole thing in Franklin, so he’s just gonna do that and _then_ come back to Philly in a few…” Mac turns to stare past Dennis, at the others, his mouth open. “Did you guys burn down the boutique? What the Hell, man, you said you weren’t gonna do that! What is _wrong_ with you? That’s so—”

“He got an _insurance payout_?” Frank demands furiously, jumping up on his little troll feet, and Dennis clenches his jaw, hearing a quiet squeak as his teeth grind against one another.

“Pittsburgh is five hours away,” Dennis says slowly. “Does that mean you’re gonna break up?”

“Uh,” Mac says, folding his hands over his chest. “Well, um, I was kinda thinking maybe that I’d, uh… Just… Go with him?”

It is like the world narrows to a fine, fine point.

The apartment, in the past few weeks, has been very quiet. Mac barely comes into the apartment to change clothes – he’s missed movie night _twice_ , and it’s been frustrating, trying to sleep without knowing there’s someone else in the apartment, at the obscene silence of it without hearing the regular squeak of bedsprings as Mac jacks off, or hearing him doing his push-ups, or _something_ …

Their friendship has changed a lot, over the past few years. It used to be that Dennis and Mac could jack off together, once or twice – although that was less possible once Mac was getting more and more _obnoxiously_ gay, and when he came out, God… Yeah. That shit was _off-limits_.

But Mac… Gone.

Not just Mac in a relationship, spending time somewhere else – Mac _gone_ , gone from the bar, gone from the Gang, gone from _Philadelphia_. And Mac with this old guy, dicking him down, buying him coffee like some glorified rentboy, being a _slattern_ on the other side of the state, and Dennis…

Living alone.

“Yes,” Dennis whispers, his voice trembling slightly. “Let’s all go and have a nice… _dinner_.”


	3. Mac Gets Some Sugar: Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, big warnings for extremely dubious consent, non-consensual drug use, sexual assault, etc. Generally pretty dark.

**At 6:32PM, On A Thursday, Philadelphia, PA**

**Mac McDonald**

Mac heaves in a little gasp of air as Cliff pushes him back down on the bed, and even as he grinds his ass down onto Mac’s cock, rides him like he’s trying to milk Mac of everything he’s got, he squeezes his hands tightly around Mac’s neck. Cliff has strong hands, and Mac can feel the pressure down on his throat, and the squeeze, and he can feel his chest getting tighter and tighter, feel the whistle and rush of the blood in his veins—

And then Cliff lets go, and Mac heaves in a desperate gasp of air, feeling everything flood back into his head at once, and his head _spins_ , he’s dizzy, his vision that had been going black at the edges suddenly bursting back into life…

“Mmm,” Cliff purrs as Mac comes, his cock pulsing, and Cliff leans in and catches Mac’s lip under his teeth, dragging playfully over the lower lip, and Mac jumps as he feels Cliff’s wet fingers reach back between Mac’s legs, circling his asshole.

“What— What are you doing?”

“Me? Oh, I’m, uh, I’m making dinner a little more interesting,” Cliff murmurs, and he catches Mac in another kiss as he slides his finger right into him, slides inside him, and Mac grunts, his thighs parting open slightly and inviting Cliff in. Cliff works two slender fingers into him, crooks them slightly, and Mac lets out a keen.

“No,” he moans at the white-hot knife of pleasure that digs through him. “Too much, Cliff—”

“Oh, too much?” Cliff repeats, his tone innocent, but he presses both fingers hard against Mac’s prostate and _rubs_ , and Mac lets out a loud yell of desperate noise, trying to push Cliff off him, but with his spare hand Cliff pins him down by his throat, rubbing in circles, tight circles— The pain-pleasure is unrelenting, ripping through him like an electric shock, and before he can even think about it he’s wailing, begging Cliff without words to just let up, to just let him have a break, because he can’t, he can’t, he can’t—

He’s crying. He’s crying, he realizes, tears running down his face – he never knew something could feel so good and so torturous at the same time but he feels like he’s gonna die, and Cliff whispers against his mouth, “It’s okay, baby, just take it, just take it…” Weakly, Mac lets his hands fall back on the bed, his breaths making his whole body ripple, and he lies back with a dizzy head, more than he had with the choking.

He feels like he’s floating high above everything when Cliff finally stops, and he whines distantly as Cliff draws himself up from Mac’s cock and works something into his asshole, slides it in so smoothly where Mac’s worked open.

“I n’d t’get ready,” Mac mumbles blearily, but he’s still drowning in that floaty feeling, and Cliff clucks at him softly, drawing him up and pulling Mac’s head against his chest. Mac can feel the plug inside him, but he can feel how warm Cliff’s body is, and he lets himself drop like a weight against him.

“No, baby, you need to let Daddy take care of you,” Cliff murmurs, brushing his lips against Mac’s ear, and Mac feels the hot tears prick at his eyes again, but Cliff says, “Let me get you all washed and dressed up, huh? Let me show you just how, uh, just how _precious_ you are.” And he’s so gentle! He’s so gentle with his big hands, pulling Mac under the water from the shower even though his knees are weak and he feels like he’s gonna fall into a dead faint at any moment, even though Cliff is taking nearly all of Mac’s weight at once, and then he dresses Mac and he does it—

He does it so _carefully_ , like Mac _is_ precious, like he’s the most fragile, beautiful thing in the world, and this is kinda how Mac has always wanted to be treated, although he’s never known before now how exactly to verbalize it, how to explain it to anyone. Cliff kisses every inch of his belly and his chest as he buttons up the shirt over it, and he does the same to his ass as he draws the pants up toward his waist, and then he holds Mac around the waist and puts his chin on Mac’s shoulder as he looks at both their reflections in the mirror

“You look beautiful, baby,” Cliff murmurs softly, his breath warm against Mac’s ear. “I, uh, I want to put a little… I’d like to, uh, I’d like to put a little liner on those big brown eyes of yours, huh?”

“Make-up?” Mac says lowly, except that he’s still hazy and still feeling a little floaty, above just about everything… “Okay, Cliff,” he says, and when Cliff’s smile shows in the mirror, it makes Mac’s stomach do an excited flip.

“So precious to me, honey,” Cliff murmurs, stroking his fingers either side of Mac’s abs, and he sits Mac down on the edge of the bed. He almost feels like he could fall asleep as Cliff massages a liquid foundation into his cheeks and into his forehead, and then begins to delicately apply liner to the edges of Mac’s eyes. Mac’s seen Dennis put on makeup, and it’s always seemed like such an involved process for him, something he does without even thinking about, like it’s second nature. For Cliff, he _is_ concentrating, but he seems to take a lot of pleasure in it, like he does when he’s painting something. “Gosh, you are just— You are just a _treasure_.”

“You make me feel small,” Mac whispers, and Cliff tilts his head slightly to the side, looking at Mac like he’s something particularly cute.

“Oh, yeah?” Cliff asks. “And, uh, how does that make you feel?”

“It feels good,” Mac says. “Dennis always…” He trails off, his tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth, and Cliff strokes his jaw back and forth with the knuckles on one hand: Mac lets his eyes flutter shut as he leans into the touch.

“Dennis always what, sweetheart?” Cliff asks, and his voice is so rich and warm and quiet that Mac feels like he could answer anything he asked in that voice, like he could do whatever he wanted, forever…

“He makes me feel small,” Mac says quietly. “But not in a… He doesn’t do it like you do. He doesn’t hold me, he doesn’t— You know. He’s not gay. I know he’s not gay. But sometimes he touches me and I’m so hopeful and I just think that maybe…” Mac drops his head forward, and Cliff cups the back of his head as he presses it against Cliff’s chest.

“It’s okay, baby,” Cliff murmurs, playing his fingers back and forth through Mac’s hair, and Mac closes his eyes, his hands around Cliff’s waist. “I’m here now. And when I get you home to Pittsburgh, I’m gonna set you up, and I’m gonna take such good care of you.” Mac presses wraps his arms around Cliff’s body, and he squeezes him as tightly as he can. “And all you, uh, all you have to do… is do what I say.” _Yes_.

“I can do that,” Mac mumbles. “I want to.” He’s just so _tired_ , but the fatigue is the least of it, really, he just feels… Kinda out of it, brought low and made sleepy and out of it, his head hazy.

“Good,” Cliff says, and Mac grunts as he cups Mac’s ass through his pants, playing over the plug through the fabric. Mac exhales, and he lets himself rest like this for just a little while, listening the beat of Cliff’s heart in his chest. He just feels so— His eyes are heavy, and he lets them close for just a few minutes, listening to the steady rhythm of Cliff’s heart, letting himself sink right into it. He doesn’t dream, really, but he’s in that half-dark state between being asleep and really being awake, where everything is hazy and flowing a little too easy.

“Baby? B _aaa_ by?” He draws out the syllable, and Mac sleepily shifts his position, letting Cliff slide his fingers over Mac’s chin and get him to look up at his face. “We gotta go, honey. You, uh, you can’t nap on Daddy’s lap forever.”

“Why not?” Mac mutters, and Cliff laughs, dragging his lips over Mac’s cheek before shoving him to stand up. They move outside, and Mac sleepily allows a jacket to be pulled on over his dress shirt, and when they’re on the bike he’s glad to be able to just press his chest against Cliff’s back, wrap his arms around the older man’s waist.

When they get to Guigino’s, Mac almost doesn’t want to get off the bike. He hesitates for a second as Cliff steps off, and when Cliff gives him a puzzled look, he reluctantly draws himself off the saddle, and he slides his hands to Cliff’s waist.

“Do we have to?” Mac asks in a mumble, and he knows it’s childish, and stupid, but he doesn’t _want_ to, and the idea of being in public when he’s like this, still tired and hazy and like he just wants to crawl into Cliff’s chest and sleep there, is… He doesn’t know. He doesn’t like it.

“Oh, of _course_ we do, honey,” Cliff whispers, and he tilts Mac’s face up to meet his again, leaning down and catching him in a slow, bruising kiss. “Listen, honey, we’re gonna, uh, we’re gonna go in for dinner, okay? You’re gonna sit right next to me, and I’m gonna, uh— How ‘bout I order for you? Take the stress off?”

“Dennis normally orders for me,” Mac says, without thinking, and something changes imperceptibly in Cliff’s face. He doesn’t know how to describe it, exactly, but something tightens, or maybe loosens, and suddenly Mac feels desperately uncertain, his chest tight. “Oh, no, Cliff—”

“It’s okay,” Cliff murmurs, his voice low and sleek and dangerous. “It’s okay, baby. Take me— Take me through it just one more time, okay? Dennis is straight, you think, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mac says. “I don’t wanna… Don’t be jealous, Cliff, I don’t want you to…”

“I’m not jealous,” Cliff assures him, and he chuckles softly, his lips brushing against Mac’s again, and he slides his hand’s through Mac’s hair. Big, but gentle. “I’m not jealous, honey, don’t you— Don’t you worry, okay? Now, just tell me. _You_ think that, mmm, that Dennis is straight.”

“He is straight.”

“He ever slept with a guy?” Mac feels a sudden twinge of guilt.

“Well— Yeah, but not because he’s gay, but he just… You know, he’s gotten drunk, a few times, and gone home with guys, I guess, but he just likes sex, it isn’t because he’s gay.” It all comes out at once, a little panicked, but Cliff hushes him softly, touching his cheeks again. Guilt burns in his chest, and he coughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck, then says, “Um, well— Okay, so one time, but it was like, ten years ago… And it was Dee’s fault, really, it was Sweet Dee, not me, um, and… And I got Dennis super drunk on tequila, because, uh— Because we wanted the… It’s kinda complicated, except he was drunk enough after I was done with him that he let these two guys take him home.”

Cliff laughs, softly. “Gosh,” he murmurs. “That’s, uh, that’s a hell of a prank, honey.” Mac bites his lip.

“Yeah… But you know, it wasn’t— It was Dee’s fault—"

“So he’s, mmm, so he’s never slept with _you_ , right?” This line of questioning is… _Uncomfortable_ , but for reasons Mac can’t quite comprehend. He’s trying to puzzle through it, but his mind is moving slowly, and everything is kind of broken down by how much he wants to just _go to sleep_ , and cuddle close to Cliff… But he wants to do what Cliff says. He wants to make Cliff happy.

 “No,” Mac says. “No, no, you don’t have to be—”

“Honey, I’m _not_ jealous,” Cliff assures him, and then says, “You ever, uh— You’ve never slept together, but have you ever, uh… You ever done anything for him? You know, just between guys, you ever blew him, maybe, gave him a handy?”

“ _No_ ,” Mac says immediately.

“How about—” Cliff’s lips twitch, his eyes wrinkling slightly, like he’s seeing some joke that Mac doesn’t get. “You ever, you ever get off together? Maybe watch the same porn?” Mac feels the flush in his cheeks burning his skin, and he stares down at the ground. He remembers, when him and Dennis used to get off together, just for a little while – it had started off watching some of Dennis’ sex tapes, and then they’d just been watching stuff together, in the same room, eyes on the laptop screen. Mac had barely dared look at him, most of the time, but he’d been able to hear the sound of Dennis’ hand on his cock, Dennis’ soft moans… “Mmm, I think I… I think I get the picture, hon. Come on, let’s, uh— Let’s go inside.” Sliding his fingers through Mac’s, Cliff pulls Mac to follow him, and Mac is nervous and uncertain, sure he should expect something to happen, _sure_ … “You are just the _cutest_ , honey.”

Mac feels a warm glow in his chest, and he feels himself relax.

They’re the first to arrive, and they sit down at the big table. Leaning back against a chair, Mac leans his head as Cliff plays delicately over his neck, and Mac lets himself kinda zone out as Cliff orders drinks for them, a glass of wine for himself, and some kind of fruity cocktail that Mac would never have ordered for himself, but is sweet and makes his head spin, and is just—

“This is good,” Mac mumbles, and Cliff smiles indulgently. “They’re gonna be late.”

“Probably,” Cliff agrees.

“And Dennis doesn’t like you, so he’s probably going to order a lot of stuff, because it’s on your dime, and you’ll have to pay for it.”

“That’s just dandy.” Cliff’s tone is smooth and even, his lips quirked into a warm little smile.

“And Frank, but just because he’s cheap. And because he hates you.”

“Oh, I, uh, I don’t mind that at all.”

“And Dee. Because she’s a bitch.”

“You sure you want to come out to Pittsburgh with me?” Cliff asks, and Mac whips his head to look at him, his mouth falling open. Cliff’s expression is open and easy, even as Mac shakes his head. “Well, I only, uh, I only _ask_ because you’re so close with your little friends, huh? I don’t want to, mmm, I don’t exactly want to take you away from them.”

“It’s only Pittsburgh,” Mac says. “It’s not like it’s out of the state.”

“Not yet,” Cliff says, and this makes Mac take pause, makes him furrow his brow to ask a question, but then Cliff flicks something on his phone, and suddenly there’s a sudden buzz of vibration right inside him, and he has to bite down hard on the side of his hand to keep from yelling out. Then it stops, electric spasms still running up his spine, and Cliff picks up Mac’s cocktail and brings it to his mouth, getting him to drink.

Mac drinks greedily.

The sickly sweetness of the cocktail is a welcome distraction.

He’s just slightly dizzy when the ice clinks in the base of the glass – he doesn’t know what the proof is on this cocktail, but it tastes pretty damn strong, and between that and the vibe pressed right up in his asshole, and the fact that his cock is straining in his pants but won’t show because the skinny denim is too stiff, and he feels like he might _die_.

“Hey-o!” Mac turns his head, and he feels the room spin just slightly.

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩** **✩** **✩**

**Dennis Reynolds**

Dennis lets everyone else go into the restaurant first. He wants to make Mac and his stupid sugar daddy _wait_ for a few minutes before they can order, and he hovers in front of the restaurant for a few minutes, his shoulders back against the wall. At this moment, he vaguely misses smoking – as soon as it had stopped being _sexy_ , and people had started thinking of it as dirty and nasty, well.

Easy calculation. Dennis had dropped it.

After around ten or fifteen minutes, he sidles into the bar, and he says, “Uh, hi, I’m part of the Handler party.”

“Sure,” the waitress says, and he lets her lead him to the table, which is already a _mess_. What with Frank deciding this is a special enough occasion to wear his toupee, Dee deciding _not_ to hide most of her face with makeup (because Cliff is gay, so why should she bother?), Charlie being himself, that’s all contributing to the general chaos of the evening, but then… _Mac_.

Christ, Mac looks hammered.

Red-faced and swaying a little in his seat, he’s scooted his seat right up to Cliff’s at the head of the table, and he’s all but _leaning_ on the old man, his cheek shoved against Cliff’s shoulder as Cliff makes easy conversation with Charlie about whatever bullshit Charlie has going on.

Mmm.

The lay-out of the table is, uh, is _interesting_.

Cliff is at one head of the table, and Frank is at the other – that’s to be expected. Mac (theoretically) is meant to be sat at Cliff’s right, and Dee and Charlie are either side of Frank, meaning that the _free seat_ at the table… is beside Cliff, and across from Mac.

Mmm hmm. Dennis… Dennis doesn’t know that he likes that.

“ _Hey there_ , Dennis,” Cliff purrs, and he rests one of his arms on Mac’s shoulders as Mac lolls and presses his head right against Cliff’s _chest_ , Christ, as if they aren’t in the middle of a damned restaurant. “I, uh, I saved you a seat.”

“Uh huh,” Dennis says, and he moves slowly forward, sliding to sit beside Cliff: he leans away from the other man, back into the chair, and the waitress hovers for a second. She’s, uh, she’s a passably pretty girl, _mostly_ kind of plain – her name tag reads _Sarah_. Mmm. She looks like a Sarah. Giving Cliff a sour look, Dennis says, “Can, I, uh, can I get a glass of your most expensive red wine?”

“Um,” Sarah says. “Are you— Are you sure, because it’s—”

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” Cliff says mildly. “Just put it all on my card.” Dennis feels a burst of indignation burn under his skin, his fingers spreading on the table, but then he forces a smile onto his face.

“ _Thanks_ , Cliff,” he says, in the most saccharinely sweet voice he can muster. “How’s Mac?”

“Oh,” Cliff murmurs, wrinkling his nose just slightly as he glances down at Mac. Mac, who— Mac, he looks pretty out of it. His eyes are a little defocused, and Cliff slowly pushes him back into his own chair, drawing his fingers affectionately through his curls, his lips twitching. “Mmm, Mac, he, uh— He maybe drank his cocktail a little too fast. I, uh, I’ve put him on _water_ for now.” He picks up Mac’s glass, and he brings it to Mac’s mouth, letting Mac sloppily gulp down the water, and Mac does it eagerly, desperately, like he’s the thirstiest little bitch in Philly.

He is.

“That’s my boy,” Cliff murmurs softly, and Dennis looks at the expression on his face, quietly calculating as he looks at Mac, as if he’s figuring something out, working out some equation… And then Cliff smiles at Dennis.

“Isn’t this, uh, a treat for me, huh?” Cliff asks mildly. “Handsome young men on each side.”

The waitress puts his glass of wine down, and Dennis takes a long drink. He barely even tastes it.

 As she sets down the menus, Dennis glances through, paging through the thing… But they come to Guigino’s often enough, and it isn’t as if he doesn’t already _know_ what the most expensive thing on the menu is. Frank hasn’t even opened it: he knows too.

“What do you think you’re gonna get, Charlie?” Cliff asks, and Charlie beams at him: Dennis has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. Guy’s so damned _desperate_ to be liked – it’s pathetic.

“Oh, uh, well, you know, I hate the menu here,” Charlie says, and Cliff raises his eyebrows, an expression of polite bafflement showing on his face. “It’s, uh, it’s not so good.”

“Charlie’s saying that because it doesn’t have _pictures_ ,” Dennis says scornfully, and Charlie scowls.

“No, that’s not it! Except pictures would be good, you know, because then you’d have an idea of what you’re eating, instead of looking at all these squiggly lines—”

“They’re not squiggly lines,” Dee says as Dennis rolls his eyes. Even Mac, as hammered as he is, is groaning and putting his face in his hands.

“He always does this,” he mutters. “He always—"

“I’ll order for you, Charlie,” Frank offers, and Charlie tips his head back to groan.

“No! No, I want to order, everyone else is ordering their own thing, and I hate it when you order for me, Frank, you don’t pay attention to the colours I need to eat, and—”

“How about I read you the menu, Charlie?” Cliff asks, and the whole table goes silent. Dennis can see Mac, red-faced and out of it and _staring_ ; he can see Dee and Frank, their eyebrows raised. Charlie is opening and closing his mouth dumbly, and Dennis, well. Dennis is kinda just shocked at how far Cliff will go to pretend he, you know, _gives a shit_.

“Oh,” Charlie says. “Nah, um, I don’t… It’s real long, a lotta pages, and Frank can just order—”

“No, don’t be silly,” Cliff says, and he pushes to the front of the menu. “Half the pages are, uh, are wine anyway. Here, the starters—”

“We’re not getting starters, are we?” Charlie asks.

“Of course we are,” Cliff says, as if it’s obvious. “Unless you don’t want one, of course, honey – you think you can’t handle two plates? Because, you know, if you haven’t got the appetite, we can just get you two starters instead of—”

“No, no, I want a starter,” Charlie says, immediately backtracking. “Yes, please, read me the starters.”

“Cliff, you don’t have to,” Dennis breaks in. “He’s only going to order the cheesesteak anyway, and then complain it isn’t milksteak, so—”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Cliff murmurs. “You know, my cousin, Isaiah, he never learned to read.”

“How come?” Mac asks, already leaning right across the table, and Cliff plays with his hair, and Dennis hates the smile on his face, hates how easily he does it. It makes Dennis so damned _angry_ – whisking Mac away to the other side of the state, spoiling him with all these _classes_ and _clothes_ and _food_.

“Oh, he’s, uh, he fell out of a tree house when we were kids,” Cliff murmurs, his expression thoughtful. “Bashed his head in – there’s still a dent in the side of his skull, ha. Anyway, you know, he can’t read, can’t do a lot of the more complicated stuff… Perfect pitch, though. Plays sax by ear.” Dennis glances from Cliff to Charlie, whose arms are crossed tightly over his chest.

“I never fell out of a tree.”

“Dude, you’ve fallen out of _buildings_ ,” Dennis says. “And you’ve been huffing glue since you were a toddler.”

“I’ll read you the menu,” Cliff says… And he _does_. There’s a sonorous quality to Cliff’s voice, deep and resonant and charming, and he’s so damned _patient_ – he explains every single thing on the menu to Charlie as if they’ve got time for this shit, as if Charlie isn’t a grown man that should know what fucking _penne_ is. “And how about you, Dee?”

“Oh, I’m gonna get the risotto,” Dee says. “What about you, Cliff?”

“Oh, I think the, uh, the _gnocci_. Looks good, doesn’t it, Mac?”

“Yeah,” Mac says. “But I wanna try, I… You said, about it, um—”

“The pappardelle,” Cliff murmurs, drawing out the Italian accent on the word, and Mac _shivers_. Shivers! Right there in the middle of the restaurant, where everyone can see him, shudders on the chair like he’s got his fucking dildo bike up his ass.

“Yeah,” Mac says, dreamily. “The pappardelle.”

“Uh huh,” Dennis says. “Uh— Is there _meat_ in the pappardelle, Mac? Or are you, uh, going vegetarian now?” Mac’s brows take a second before they furrow deeply, like his face is on some kind of delay.

“Uh— N-no, there’s no meat, but it looks really good, and—”

“Cutting down on the protein and laying on the carbs in the pasta, huh,” Dennis says, dipping at his wine. “Guess you’re trying to go back to fat Mac, huh?” Mac leans back, his mouth falling open, and Dennis hears Cliff laugh softly.

“I gotta be honest with you, Den,” he murmurs.

“Dennis,” he corrects sharply.

“Mac has had _more_ than enough exercise today,” Cliff purrs, and Dennis feels himself scowl.

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩** **✩** **✩**

**Mac McDonald**

“W’nna go home,” Mac mumbles, pressing his face against Cliff’s chest. He’s _really_ drunk now, even though he’s just been drinking water since that first cocktail, and his cheeks feel hot, his body slow to move. He’s so tired he can’t even stand it, and Cliff kisses the top of his head, drawing him out into the fancy little corridor there is just outside the bathroom and pushing him down onto the couch there. _“Cliff_ , I’m so drunk—”

“Oh, honey, I know, I know,” Cliff murmurs, and then his mouth touches Mac’s, and Mac whines low in his throat, but it feels _good_. He likes the feel of Cliff’s lips on his, likes the way his tongue drags right over Mac’s, and how warm Cliff is, how _strong_ —

Mac feels dizzy with it.

It’s been the same all through dinner, and he’s been trying to act sober, but every time he thinks he might be sobering up, drinking greedily at his water, he just feels _more hazy_ , and he just… He can’t understand it.

And Cliff, Cliff is just being _so nice_ with everybody – he’s talking with Dee, he’s making conversation with _Charlie_ , nodding politely through all of Charlie’s bullshit stories about gnomes and worms or whatever, and talking to _Dennis_ … And Mac can tell that Dennis is getting more annoyed, he can tell, but he just doesn’t—

It’s like he can’t control his tongue.

“Everyone’s eating their dessert, honey,” Cliff murmurs when they break apart. “You don’t want to ruin anyone’s dessert, do you?”

“Cliff—” Mac whines, and Cliff hushes him.

“I know, I know,” Cliff murmurs, thumbing over his mouth. “You’re just— You’re just _tired_. Such a cutie. Why don’t you, um— Why don’t you wait here a second, huh, honey?”

“Mmmkay,” Mac mumbles, his head dropping back against the couch. He can barely hold himself upright, and he’s grateful for this dumb little couch, although he’s never understood the point of it. He watches hazily as Cliff walks down the corridor, back into the main part of the restaurant, and he shouldn’t fall asleep, he really shouldn’t, but—

His head just feels so _heavy_ , and he feels so drunk, and the plug in his ass feels good but in a way that just makes him want to roll over and go to sleep…

Maybe he does, just a little bit.

Just a little.

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩** **✩** **✩**

**Dennis Reynolds**

“Pathetic,” Dennis mutters as Cliff has to all but _carry_ Mac into the little corridor that the bathrooms are down, and he shakes his head.

“Is he okay?” Frank asks. “Looks like he’s drinking through his gills.”

“He’s fine,” Dee says. “He’s probably just not thinking about how much these cocktails have in them. He’s new to the whole gay thing, right? I bet he thinks cocktails have the same percentage as a beer. Idiot.”

“I don’t know,” Charlie says. “You know, he doesn’t usually drink that fast, he doesn’t get drunk normally unless it’s like, a competition.” Dennis rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, he probably bet Cliff he could down the thing in ten seconds, and Cliff figured he wouldn’t be that stupid. He’s just trying to impress his _daddy_.” Charlie wrinkles his nose slightly, and Dennis’ lips twitch: he knows that _daddy issues_ are one of the things Charlie and Mac absolutely have in common. No wonder Charlie had been so excited for Cliff to read him the menu, despite ordering calamari (he’d spit it out when Dee had let slip what it was, then decided to eat it again when _Cliff_ said how jealous he was of Charlie for being able to eat it), and then chicken nuggets, from the kid’s portion of the menu.

“I don’t know why you dislike the guy so much, Dennis,” Dee says pointedly. “He’s good to Mac, he’s taking us all out to dinner, and he’s _hot_. What, you think Mac is gonna do better than this guy?”

“Mac could do way better,” Frank mutters. “Handler’s a creep.”

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re jealous,” Charlie says.

“Me? Jealous? I ain’t jealous of that Je—”

“Shh,” Dennis hisses. “He’s coming back.”

“Hey” Cliff murmurs: he’s coming not from the direction of the hall, but instead from the front desk, and Dennis frowns slightly. He stands right next to Dennis’ chair, his hand settling on the back of it. “Listen, boys and girls, I, uh… I really think I should just get Mac home. You know, kid is drunk as a fish, I— I really shouldn’t have, mmm, shouldn’t have let him knock back the cocktails before you guys came. But, you know, the tab for the meals and the drinks so far are paid, and I just threw an extra hundred dollars on a tab for you, ‘cause I don’t want you guys to stop having a good time, okay?”

“Oh, Cliff,” Dee says, kicking Frank under the table to keep him quiet. “You sure?”

 _“Oh,_ sure as sure,” Cliff demurs, shaking his hands. “Dennis, hon, could I— Could I borrow you a sec?” Dennis looks at Cliff’s face, which is just a _picture_ of quiet concern, and he exhales through his nostrils.

“ _Sure_ , Cliff,” Dennis says, his voice faux-chipper, and he lets Cliff lead him across the room.

“You know, it’s— It’s funny, this boy, he’ll just take whatever you put in front of him, won’t he? I admire that,” Cliff says conversationally, the concern abruptly absent, and Dennis frowns slightly.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I— I’ll make a confession to you, Dennis. I spiked his cocktail. And, mmm, I put a little something in his water, just to keep him— You know, keep him _placid_. Honestly, you don’t have to do much with this boy to keep him, aha, keep him eager to please, you know? He is just perfect for a guy like me. But—” Cliff trails off, and Dennis gives him a sideways glance, trying to figure out where exactly this line of conversation is going. “Well, that’s just what I mean. Me, I, uh, I don’t _need_ a toy like Mac, exactly. I’m— Well, I’m not _old_ , but I’m not exactly getting any younger, am I? But you… Well, Mac is just head over heels for _you_.”

Dennis stops short in the doorway of the little corridor. Mac is sprawled out on the couch just outside the bathroom, knocked out, and Dennis stares down at him.

“What?” Dennis asks.

“Oh, don’t you play shy with me,” Cliff murmurs, and he reaches out, touching the side of Dennis’ face. His fingers are warm, and Dennis doesn’t have it in him to flinch back right away: he looks up at Cliff’s expression, at his slightly smirking lips. “You and me, honey, we’re— We’re two of a kind. Gee, haven’t you just got the _prettiest_ eyes? Kind of a seagreen, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Dennis murmurs, doing the math in his head. Mac’s sugar daddy boyfriend is— Is what, coming onto _Dennis_? Shit. But that’s not so weird, really – honestly, why would anyone bang Mac if they thought Dennis was an option? He puts his hand on Cliff’s chest, and then pushes him back. Except that, uh, Dennis _is not_ an option. “Listen, Cliff, I’m flattered and all, but—”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Cliff says, laughing. “No, I don’t— Sorry, honey, I’m not interested.” Dennis feels his hands clench into fists at his side. “Like I said, it’s _Mac_. Honestly, he just— Dennis this, and Dennis that, and if I thought it was just a guy, ha, in too deep for his best friend, that’d be one thing, but… It’s what he says about _you_ that makes me… Makes me take a little pause.” Cliff reaches out, drawing his fingers through Mac’s hair again, and Mac’s eyes flutter open.

Dennis stares, mouth a little dry, as Cliff presses two fingers against Mac’s wet lower lip, and Mac just swallows them down, _eagerly_. He looks blearily at Cliff through his drugged up haze, sucking wetly.

“You hot, honey?” Cliff asks in a whisper.

“Yeah,” Mac mumbles when Cliff drags his fingers back. “Yeah, yeah, I’m… Y’can fuck me, Cliff—”

“Oh, can I?” Cliff asks mockingly, and Dennis’ skin is a little hot and tight. This is— This is kinda _sexy_ , actually. It’s maybe the way he’s lolling back on the couch, ready to let Cliff do… Well. Whatever he wants. “Well, maybe I will, honey.” He cups the back of Mac’s head, pulling Mac’s face to nuzzle against Cliff’s stomach, his nose against the divot of Cliff’s hip. “You see? He’s just— He’s just _sloppy_ , Dennis, and I really don’t want to put him on the back of the bike, uh, in case he falls right off. Could I trouble you for a ride?”

“Sure,” Dennis says, almost croaks.

“ _Great_ ,” Cliff grins, and he just—

Christ.

He just scoops his arms under Mac’s body and lifts him like he doesn’t way anything at all, like it’s really that easy for him, and he _carries_ him out of the restaurant.

“Oh, I’ll drive,” Cliff says when they reach the Range Rover, and Dennis frowns, turning his head.

“What?”

“I’ll drive,” Cliff repeats, and he gestures for Dennis to slide into the backseat, and he just— He just puts Mac in his lap like he’s a damned puppy, and Mac is so out of it he doesn’t even think about it, it seems like. He moans Cliff’s name and sloppily drags his mouth over Dennis’ neck, his hand pressing between Dennis’ legs and clumsily palming over his dick.

Dennis waits for Cliff to haul Mac back, but he doesn’t. He rests his arm on the side of the car, smirks down at them like they make a pretty picture, and he slams the door shut. Dennis, he’s only human. If there’s a hand on his dick, of course he’s going to _like_ it, and it’d be one thing if Mac was sober, but… He’s not going to remember any of this, and it feels _good_.

“Is this what you’re into, huh?” Dennis asks as Cliff flicks the car into drive, and he feels Mac grind against Dennis’ knees, sloppily and awkwardly, _greedily_. “You like to see your toyboy drunk and grinding on somebody else?”

“I’m not possessive, if that’s what you mean,” Cliff says mildly. “Besides, uh— Like I said, he’s sweet on you. And I— I gotta tell you, sweetheart, I don’t want to take this pretty boy to the next city over and have him crying over you.” Dennis blinks, and his hand shoots out, grabbing Mac’s wrist.

“ _Cliff_ ,” Mac wails.

“I’m not Cliff, dickhole,” Dennis snaps, and Mac goes very quiet before he presses his face to Dennis’ chest. His cheek slides against Dennis’ pecs, warm and soft, and he mumbles an apology that’s so slurred it’s barely close to English. He holds on tightly to Dennis, anyway, and Dennis has no idea if he’s understood or not, if he realizes who he’s on top of. “Slut. I’m not gay, man.”

“No?” Cliff asks, mildly. “I used to, uh, I used to be straight. Told people I was straight, anyway. He said you used to get off together.” He feels trapped in the car, with Mac on top of him, and Cliff right there, Cliff, just—

“Yeah,” Dennis snaps defensively, “as _bros_. Not— Not because I’m gay.”

“He’s got a great cock, you know,” Cliff says, in the tone of somebody commenting on the weather. Dennis turns his head away, and stops responding. He zones right out, not really with it, and it’s only when the car comes to a stop that he realizes Cliff had been driving them to Dennis and Mac’s apartment building, and not to Cliff’s.

“I can’t carry him,” Dennis mutters.

“That’s okay,” Cliff murmurs, coming around and opening the other door. “I can carry him.” Dennis wishes he could punch the guy, wishes he could just— But he can’t.

“Why’re you bringing him here?” Dennis asks as they move into the elevator, and he looks at the way Mac is sprawled over Cliff’s shoulder, the way he just… Just _hangs_ there, and he can barely understand what Mac is moaning against Cliff’s back, whatever garbage he’s coming out with.

“Well, like I said,” Cliff says. “I don’t want to, uh, I don’t want to take him home with me if he’s gonna come crawling back to you.”

“He isn’t!” Dennis snaps. “Listen, old man, I don’t know what your thing is about Mac and me, but he isn’t gonna leave a shiny house in Pittsburgh, with whatever the Hell you buy for him, to come back _here_. I’m not even— I’m not even freaking _nice_ to the guy.”

“Nice?” Cliff repeats, and he laughs softly as Dennis unlocks the apartment door. “It isn’t about _nice_ , honey. He said to me— Mmm. Maybe I, uh, maybe I shouldn’t say.” Cliff comes to an abrupt stop, and the uncertainty on his face is _genuine_ , or it looks like it. Dennis knows it mustn’t be, really, that he must just be acting, but Christ, how is Dennis supposed to _not_ ask?

“What?”

“Well,” Cliff says. “Especially after all the guys, uh, fucked that doll they had of you…” Dennis swallows hard, and he slams the door shut with more force than he’d meant to, making it rattle in its frame.

“ _Come on,_ old man,” Dennis mutters, and Cliff shifts his fireman’s hold on Mac, his hand splayed unnecessarily over Mac’s ass. “Just fucking say what you want to say that you can go.”

Cliff looks at him for a long moment, his eyes deceptively soft. “Well, just that, uh— He said that, mmm, just about ten years ago, you— You got taken home by some guys, huh? Two guys, a big black guy and some pretty boy, some twink?” Dennis clenches his jaw, and he tightens his fist further to punch at the guy, and then Cliff says, “Well, you know, he just said he got you drunk. Arranged the whole thing to, um— What was it, _teach you a lesson_?”

Dennis stares at Mac, his lip curled.

“Did he now,” Dennis whispers.

“Uh huh.”

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩** **✩** **✩**

**Mac McDonald**

Mac is on his hands and elbows, his face mashed into the pillow, and he feels like he’s being _split open_. It isn’t that there isn’t enough lube, because the movement is smooth and easy, but he’s never been stretched this wide in his whole damn life, and he’s aware that he’s moaning into the pillow, his fingers fisted in the fabric.

“Jesus,” he hears a voice say, and he whimpers low in his throat.

“Isn’t he something?” Cliff asks, and Mac is kind of out of it, doesn’t remember who the other guy is, doesn’t know where he is, but his ass feels _so full_ — “You know, I, uh, I think I could get my whole fist in here.”

“ _No_ ,” Mac moans, and Cliff hushes him, presses a kiss to his asscheek.

“No?” Cliff echoes, amused.

“No, don’t— Don’t do that. Doesn’t it hurt?”

“You tell him, honey,” Cliff murmurs, dragging his teeth over the base of Mac’s spine and making him gasp as he shoves himself back onto Cliff’s four fingers. “Does it hurt?”

“N— No,” Mac gasps out, and his head is spinning, he’s so dizzy, he can’t… “No. Feels good. But not— Not your fist.”

“Okay,” Cliff purrs. “Not my fist. Come here, honey.”

“I’m not—” The voice is cut off, and Mac hears the sound of kissing, of lips smacking against one another. The other voice moans. Who _is_ that? Mac feels like he should know, but he’s a little hazy, and he can’t quite grab hold of the recognizable thread of memory. And then Cliff does something with his fingers, presses hard right against his prostate, and Mac just sees _white_ , his cock jumping, spurting onto the towel underneath him.

“You sure you don’t want to take him for a ride? He’s— Look at him, he’s open. He’s desperate for it, he, uh, he always is if you work him the right way. You want someone to fuck you, baby boy?” Mac shudders, and he doesn’t answer, can’t make his mouth work, but he spreads his thighs a little bit wider. “See?”

“ _Cliff_ ,” he whines, even though his cock is soft under his belly, even though he’s laid in a swiftly cooling puddle – Cliff’s never fucked him before, and he wants it, he _wants_ it.

“Ah ah, baby,” Cliff murmurs, and he gives a short spank to Mac’s open hole, making him keen. “What do you say when you want something?”

“ _Daddy_ —” He doesn’t know what it is, exactly. He feels another dizzy thrum in his head, and then he falls forward onto the bed, his vision blackening at the edges. Christ, he’s never been this drunk in his _life_.

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩** **✩** **✩**

**Mac McDonald**

The next morning, Mac wakes up in his own bed, and he frowns slightly, his mouth dry, his head _aching_. Christ, he barely remembers anything from last night, and he’s hungover as Hell. Must have been that cocktail he drank when they got to the restaurant, shit, how much alcohol is _in_ those gayass drinks?

His ass open, and there’s come dried on his aching thighs, and Mac groans as he crawls from the bed. He wishes he was at Cliff’s just so he could lie in his big hot tub, instead of clambering into his own shower.

“Hey, Dennis,” he calls into the apartment, and Dennis glances up from his phone. He’s sitting at the kitchen counter, eating an omelette.

“Uh, yeah?” Dennis asks.

“Where’s Cliff?”

“Probably at his house. You were being a little bitch last night, couldn’t hold your drink. He didn’t want to put you on the back of the bike in case you fell off, so I drove you back here.” Mac shifts his jaw slightly.

“Oh,” he says. “Right. I guess I should call him.”

“I guess,” Dennis replies, and Mac shuts the door as he rushes for his phone.

“ _Hey, honey_ ,” Cliff says as he answers the phone.

“Hey,” Mac says. “Um— Are you okay? Was I really bad last night, was I really embarrassing? I’m sorry, I—”

“ _Oh, don’t be sorry, baby, it’s fine_ ,” Cliff says, sounding amused. “ _Don’t you worry. Listen, you spend the day at home, and I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? I just need to do some boring stuff outta town today.”_

 _“_ Oh, no, I can help—”

“ _Aw, no, you must be hungover! You sleep it off. Talk to you later, baby.”_

“Uh, okay. Bye.” He drops the phone down, and then he exhales.

Right. Okay.

 **✩** **✩** **✩ MAC GETS SOME SUGAR** **✩** **✩** **✩**

**Dennis Reynolds**

The footage on Dennis’ phone, you know, it’s— It’s _fine_.

He prefers the hidden cameras in his room, but hey, what are you gonna do?

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! I've never done a longer IASIP fic before, so I'm definitely thirsty for feedback.
> 
> [Hit me up on Tumblr](http://dictionarywrites.tumblr.com/faq). Requests always open.


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